Journey to World's End
by ChaosMan
Summary: Jack O'Neill struggles to come to terms with the genocide of a world after he and his team make a terrible mistake. WARNING: There is no happy ending to this, it involves character death and only gets darker as the story progresses.


**Journey to World's End**

First note: To anyone who's read my other stories - this is nothing like them. If you are looking for humour you won't find it here.

Second note: This is my first foray into non-humour fanfic. I was working on an original story when inspiration struck, and this story was born. I think it works quite well, but I'm keen to hear your thoughts - particularly any ways you think it could be improved.

Setting: This story isn't set in around any specific episode(s). Somewhere after Carter gets promoted to Major, but well before O'Neill gets promoted to General.

Disclaimer: You know the deal; I don't own any of the characters, or anything else relating to Stargate SG1. I'm not making any money off this story (shocking, I know!).

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General Hammond was yelling. He'd been doing that for an hour, but Jack O'Neill wasn't listening. He was trapped in his own personal hell, going through the events of the last three days in his head over and over again.

_How many people?_ His mind asked desperately, but he had no answer.

He escaped for a brief moment to glance around the table. What he saw brought him no comfort; SG-1 was on its knees. Daniel rocked gently in his chair, eyes moist, alternately chewing his fingernails and riffling unseeing through the notes on his desk. Sam sat still, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, her distressed expression wrenching his heart. Teal'c stood against the wall staring blankly, his jaw working constantly.

_How could you…?_ The question had come a thousand times, but he still had no answer. Tears welled, and he bit down on his lip to stop them. Grief clutched his chest, and he gently closed his eyes.

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He strode down the stone steps, away from the stargate. Behind him he heard the rest of his team materialising as he looked down at the faces of the man and woman who had come to greet him – both grinning eagerly.

"Welcome!" said the man happily, "We're all so pleased you're going to work with us!" He shook Jack's hand with such enthusiasm it made Jack laugh.

"You're not alone in that," he turned around and gestured towards Teal'c, "Teal'c here's positively giddy, aren't yah Teal'c?" This earned him a glare, and he turned back to the welcomers with a broad grin, "Don't worry about him, he's just shy. Give him a few beers and he's the life of the party, I swear." He winked at them, but from the looks on their faces they weren't sure why. He clapped his hands together, "So! You were going to show us some sort of futuristic zappy thing, right?"

"He means the molecular replication device," said Major Carter's slightly exasperated voice from behind him.

"Yeah," Jack said, gesturing vaguely, "that."

The woman bowed slightly and said, "Yes, it's not far, we'll take you straight there."

"Great," he said, rubbing his hands in the warm sunlight.

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The general had run out of steam. Jack sat in the mess hall, prodding the food around his plate. He hadn't taken a single bite. Around him other diners kept glancing at him, contempt and anger written across their faces. Until yesterday he had been one of the most respected, even revered personnel on the base.

_All your fault_. The voice would not leave him. Would not stop reminding him. His punishment... his torture.

A single tear rolled slowly down his cheek, before splashing onto his dinner. Clenching his jaw, he pushed the plate away and stood up. His chair screeched as it moved across the floor, and every face in the room turned to watch as he walked to the door. It opened as he approached and a burly man in army fatigues entered. The man walked across the room, slamming his shoulder into him as he passed. Uncaring, Jack caught his balance and left the room.

Once outside, he found an empty corridor and leant up against the wall. He lowered his face, rubbing it slowly with his hands.

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After the demonstration of the device – which had awed Carter no end, '_they were right, Colonel, this would mean the end of hunger on Earth!_' – they were taken for a tour of the city, and Jack had to admit he was impressed. Everywhere they went they were greeted cheerfully, market vendors offered them all kinds of merchandise free of charge, and everyone wore a smile. They entered several workplaces; offices, laboratories, warehouses… everywhere people wore big smiles on their faces and chatted happily with each other. In fact—

"Why is everyone so damned happy?" asked Jack.

"Yes," said Daniel, "I was wondering the same thing myself, only," he added quickly, "I wouldn't have put it _quite_ like that."

Their hosts seemed surprised. "Why wouldn't they be?" asked the man, "They have everything the need."

"Okay, they have everything they _need_," said Daniel, talking fast, "but what about _wants_?"

The man smiled and shook his head, "there is nothing they want, everything they need is provided."

Daniel frowned, "Well," he said, "what about crime? What about personal feuds? Surely not everyone just likes everyone else?"

"Of course they do!" said the woman; she seemed genuinely puzzled, "why would anyone not like someone?"

"Oh, I don't know," Jack pitched in, "maybe they smell funny, maybe they insulted your mother, maybe they stole your watch."

The man shook his head again, "We have no crime."

"_None?_" said Jack.

"We have everything we need," said the man, shrugging.

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A klaxon sounded. Jack contemplated heading to the gate-room, but he was relieved of duty and, moreover, didn't care. Instead he made his way to the locker room.

_You should have seen it, _said the voice. He ignored it.

He opened his locker and pulled out his box of personal effects. Sitting down on the bench, he pulled off the lid and sat it beside him. He picked up the photographs and leafed slowly through him, stopping on a picture of Charlie standing in front of their old house. A gunshot echoed quietly around inside him, grief a dull ache in his heart. He put down the photos and picked up his old wedding ring, turning it over in his fingers.

_You killed them._ _You killed them all._ Despair clutched his chest. He stood quickly. The box fell unnoticed to the floor, its contents scattering as he pressed his forehead against the cold metal of his locker. His breath came in a wracking sob.

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They were sitting in their luxury hotel room discussing the day's events when there was a knock at the door. Teal'c got up to open it, and in came a well dressed man with a distinctly hunted look. He introduced himself as Gideon, and asked if he could speak with them a while. Jack indicated a chair and the man sat down.

"Alright," said Jack, "you've got our attention." The man nodded and stared at him. After several long moments, Jack raised his eyebrows and gestured at the man, indicating he should talk.

Gideon didn't seem to realise he had done anything odd, but interpreted the invitation correctly. "I don't know if you've noticed," he began, nervously glancing around the room, "but the people on this world never stop smiling."

"Oh yeah," said Jack, "we've noticed."

Gideon nodded, "Well, it wasn't always like that. About seven years ago some geneticists found a way to tweak a particular genome with a chemical, which seemed to inhibit aggressive and rebellious behaviour. After a lot of research, it was eventually turned into a drug that could be distributed by releasing it into the atmosphere. The effect was remarkable, and crime was reduced dramatically."

"Reduced?" asked Carter, "Our guides said that there isn't any crime."

"Yes," replied Gideon, "there isn't any _now_. See, the drug only affected two in every three people. The rest were just as violent as before. The government, however, weren't about to see their dream of a utopian society shattered, and they started hunting down and executing anyone who wasn't 'cured'. They screen babies at birth now, and kill any that are resistant to the drug."

Carter grimaced, "That's horrible!"

"Some of us escaped execution, though we have to be very careful. We've been working in secret to try and free our world once more, and we've finally found a solution – a bacteria that will destroy the chemical in the atmosphere."

"Well, if you've got the answer," said Daniel, frowning, "why are you here talking to _us_?"

Gideon's face screwed up in concern, "We have the bacteria, but we need access to the molecular replicator to produce a large enough supply…" He looked around hopefully.

"No!" said Jack, "No way. Look, Gideon, I'm sorry they're trying to kill you, but we can't help."

"Colonel," said Carter, "they're killing a third of their children!"

"No," said Daniel in a concerned voice, "Jack's right, we can't mess with their culture."

"Oh come on!" she shot back, "we mess with other cultures all the time! We're talking about mass murder here!"

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Jack sat down on his bunk, the weight of a world settled heavily upon his shoulders. He tilted his head forwards, closed his eyes, and rested his face in his hands. His demons roared with renewed vigour in the darkness.

_Traitor_.

He pushed himself quickly to his feet. Pacing the room, trying to distract himself…trying to forget.

_Murderer_.

He stopped by the desk, gripping the back of the lone chair in white-knuckled hands. His body shook with anguish.

_BUTCHER!_

He picked up the chair and smashed it hard into the desk, screaming his pain to the heavens.

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Jack O'Neill sat at a table, along with Teal'c and the man from their welcoming committee. Sam Carter sat nearby with a small group of natives, pouring over computer schematics for some ridiculously complicated device. Daniel was off god knows where with a group of historians doing…well, doing nerdy stuff. Jack decided to make use of the opportunity.

"This, uh, mole-hill replica thing you guys have…" he gestured vaguely.

The man raised an eyebrow, "the molecular replicator?" he asked.

Jack nodded, "Yeah. We'd like to see more of what it can do…is there any way we could have a go with it?"

The man smiled, "Of course!" he said happily, "Why don't we go tomorrow, once your friend is satisfied here." He pointed at Carter, who was arguing pointedly with one of the technicians.

Jack laughed, "Put it this way; if it had been Carter whose wings had melted when she flew too high, she'd have argued with the sun till she hit the ground."

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He lay down on his bed, the room spinning slightly, exhaustion laying its claim. Hunger gnawed at his stomach while grief threatened to claim his soul.

_Traitor_.

He turned over, stuffing his face into the pillow, clawing at his ears to try and silence the voice.

_Murderer_.

He opened his mouth wide, screaming silently, tasting the cotton on his tongue.

_Jack O'Neill. Slayer of Worlds_.

The words swirled around his head, echoing until sleep mercifully claimed him.

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Carter was sitting at the computer terminal, working her magic. Soon Gideon would have his elixir, and the people of this world would be free. Jack smiled at the man standing beside him, who had no idea how his life was about to change. Butterflies flickered in his stomach. He hoped they were doing the right thing.

Carter looked up, "We're ready, sir."

The moment had come. He stood nervously for a moment, then spoke. "Alright, let's do it."

She pressed a control and the giant machine in front of them whirred to life. Infinitely complex processes ticked over deep within it as they watched. Several minutes passed, then her console chimed.

"It's ready."

"Ok," said Jack, drawing in a deep breath, "open her up."

She tapped another control. With a slight hiss, a large compartment opened in the front of the machine.

For several long moments nothing happened, then the man beside Jack dropped to his knees, clasping his hands to his face. He writhed there, twisting and turning. Then he screamed. A piercing, guttural shriek that spoke of unimaginable pain.

Fear gripping him, Jack dropped down beside the man, grabbing him by the shoulders, unable to do anything to help. He looked over at Carter. She simply sat there, terror written across her face. He looked back at the man and found to his horror that all over, his skin had begun to crack and peel. Blood seeped slowly from the fissures, dripping down to form a pool around him. The wounds widened and the blood flowed more freely. Several minutes later the screaming stopped and his lifeless body splashed to the floor.

Jack remained there, staring at the dreadful scene, unable to move. After what seemed like an eternity he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled outside. He froze. Looking left and right, as far as he could see, corpses, covered in blood, littering the once busy city streets. His eyes finally stopped on a single figure that remained standing. Gideon. _Smiling_. His brain couldn't process it, he just stared. Gideon looked straight at him, and then he saw it. The eyes. A flash of gold. Understanding hit, his knees buckling in disbelief.

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His dream dissolved into a happier scene. He stood in the sun, watching his wife gardening in front of the house they shared with their young son. Everything was perfect; birds chirped cheerfully in the trees and a cool breeze caressed his face. He smiled happily.

_Crack!_

A gunshot, he looked up at the house. "CHARLIE!"

_Crack!_

A second gunshot made him pause, confused. The scene dissolved, he found himself on a bed in a grey, non-descript room. His muddled brain screamed at him, _DOWN THE HALL!_

He obeyed, racing to the door. He threw it aside and flew down the corridor until he came to another door, slightly ajar. He shoved it out of the way and stopped dead, grabbing the doorway to steady himself as his feet stumbled. Grief and agony blossomed in his chest, filling his body with an impossible ache.

She lay there, sprawled on the floor. A berretta lay beside her, a crimson pool spreading slowly across the floor.

_Sam…_

He dropped to his knees beside her body, tears streaming freely down his cheeks, splashing down to mix with her blood. Pain wracked his body, despair clutched his heart. He was there. World's End.

Colonel Jack O'Neill raised his friend's gun to his head.

"_I'm sorry_," he whispered.

_BANG!_


End file.
